Sunday, October 12, 2014

Don't Dream It's Over

No more time for any more of this illness or the bull surrounding it.

Last night I revisited a country I never thought I'd see again.  Self-Poisoning.  Yes, I poisoned myself again.  It was a pretty horrifying stay in that land but at least what is left of my carpet survived.

Now before your fingers start flying to text the local mental health connection so you can force me out of your life completely, not so fast, Tattletale.  (I'd have grounds for a killer discrimination lawsuit if you did, by the way.) I didn't do it deliberately.  If there's anything I absolutely despise, it's vomiting.  I'd skirt a route completely around that if I were trying to remove myself from this planet.  Lots of means that would totally avoid the possibility of vomiting, I assure you.

I'm drinking a Pepsi right now and getting that horrible relief that finally comes after you obliterate the vomit taste from your throat (making everything else contrast to it in an overwhelming sensation of sweetness.  Literally, syrupy, sugary sweetness in taste).  And I was sick a bit over 12 hours ago, so I've been lying in bed for quite a long time, trying some Internet distraction, and wondering whether the grinding sensation in my abdomen was menstrual cramps (oh so much worse at this stage of my life than ever before -- the pain has grown exponentially), plain old hunger, or further poisoning nausea.  

It has been a stressful school year.  Either my ability to deal with people's everyday jerk-ness has declined sharply, or they are just shoving it in my face because they don't give a damn (it's coming from all directions, though I won't name names, and the guilty ones are always unable to recognize their own horrible attitudes and behaviors anyway).  It doesn't matter.  My anxiety has peaked and never dropped down to normal levels again.  Result? A lot of people will never be forgiven by me for what they do to me right now.  I'm tired of dealing with their self-serving treatment of me, and it's time for me to change.  Too many have "counted on me" to ease their way and provide them with ease and personal reward, and if they can't remember they owe me grand amounts of friendship and generosity (though I will gladly accept as little as genial kindness), well, then, it stops right now.

It's stopping right now anyway.  I'll be saying no a lot more.  They need to realize tha when it's "just this one little (read: massively huge) favor to them, there are twenty others similarly expecting me to ease their lives at the same time.  I will probably say no even when I wouldn't have minded saying yes, because I need retraining.  It's all about me, you see.  I wasn't part of their lives anyway, until they wanted something.  I do favors, oh, it's forgotten.  Repaying loans is forgotten.  But doing me a "favor" in return?  I'm expected to pay.  Literally pay.  Money, goods, inconvenience.  Maybe I should start keeping score, so that I can remember it is time to say no.  Jeeves is dead.  

Maybe it's not the vomit still sourly coating my throat.  Maybe it's a whole different type of bile.  

Yesterday I felt horrible.  I spent the day in a lot of pain, from my abdomen, my torn up hip, and then my head.  Because it's so appropriate to start the weekend you need to rest sick and in pain that will overtake the entire two days off.  Still, that's a normal day for me.  The rare days are the ones I'm not in constant pain from everything at once, and I feel happy and well for absolutely no plausible reason.  

... you have to remember -- this is God's plan for me.  How dare I try to avoid it?

So after a horrible day with some decidedly ungenerous thoughts after many nasty things were said to me, I realized that I had a massage scheduled.  I hoped it might lighten some of the pain, but by then I had already dealt with more than I could handle and my eyes were swollen.  I'd taken all the Midol I was allowed over the course of the day.  I had eaten half of my breakfast in the morning, because my appetite was gone, and I'd eaten the last couple of bites for lunch because skipping lunch altogether would have been a bad idea.  Hypoglycemia on top of everything else would have just iced the cake.  

I tried some temple and scalp massage with essential oils for my migraines, and rubbed some on my belly, hoping for some relief there.  When I was face down for my massage, I got upset again and of course my whole face clogged up because I was trying to hide it while not thinking self-deprecating thoughts.  Hey, I'm the common factor in all of this so it must of course be all my fault that these people feel it's okay to use me constantly, right?

Wrong.  Maybe a lot of the people around me are just hideously selfish?  I can see my own selfishness  (and change my approach quickly, because I don't want to hurt anyone else's feelings!) , so why in the world can't they self-reflect, and see their personality deficiencies, without falling in love with their own reflections?

Or should I just adopt a monstrous ME! Attitude so that I will fit in? Hmm?  

In any case, I only mean to demonstrate what had me so torn up yesterday, making the day worse as it went on.  

The massage helped some, but when I got home my migraine intensified and I looked in the nightstand for some Tylenol PM to maybe knock me out.  I had eaten a few gummy bears to avoid taking Meds on an empty stomach.  Not only did I have no appetite, the gummy bears didn't even seem to have any flavor.  Okay, taste buds dead. No appetite.  I went to buy some nacho cheese and Doritos.  "Street Taco Flavor!" ... Does that sound like a recipe for street taco food poisoning to anyone but me?    I ate a few chips and cheese dip, drank a Pepsi, and looked for something to take some of the teeth out of the pain.

I didn't find the Tylenol PM, but I did find the hydrocodone leftover from when I had the large tumor surgically removed from my neck.  (Seriously, it looked like a golf ball growing under my jaw and it didn't do much for my already shaky self-esteem.). I took one, and got a little dizzy, but the pain never went away.  Three hours later, I took a second one and wondered out loud if they were just too out of date to work.  

Then I felt ickier.  My stomach started giving me hints that it was unhappy. I stood up, thinking to go to the bathroom, just in case, and suddenly that mechanical-feeling weirdness hit my upper chest and I ran to the bathroom. Hey, projectile vomiting is one of my unsung talents, by the way.  Fortunately, the force behind it all made me quite on target when I got sick and everything from yesterday came back out. I was sick for quite a while.  When I thought I was finished and did all the rinsing and cleaning up, it hit again.  Rinse, clean, repeat.  Feel the burning throat all night despite drinking water to get rid of it. Take three Tums and hope for the best.

Fortunately, all that illness had given me a case of shivery shock-chills which made me cold enough to sleep, finally.  

Oh, but if only that were the end of the story.  

I have a very distinct memory of walking around the back of my car to the passenger side this morning, in that misty time before dawn.  I remember standing there thinking how pretty it was, and that it was one of my favorite times of day.  I should see it more often.  I also remember being the slightest bit concerned that someone might see me out there, and then thinking that nobody would be out early enough to see me so it was no big deal.  I was dreamily nonchalant about it.  Walking back toward the house, then my memory faded out.  

And I woke up in my bed several hours later, wondering if that was a vivid dream or if I've started sleepwalking again.  My feet were a little dirty, too.  *sigh*. The deadbolt was still key-locked, and  the key still hanging up.  It wouldn't be the first time I've sleepwalked outside and never really woken up through the whole thing. 

But if I can fetch the key, unlock the locks, get outside, walk around dreamily ruminating about the pretty grayish-mauve mist in the air, all without waking up, what scarier things might I get myself into?


Truly, I don't have time to be sick.  I have to go and build a replacement crawl-space door with my fledgling carpentry skills.  I'm learning.  I have to, because things are falling apart around my house. And I'm on my own with that.






No comments:

Post a Comment